


The New Arrival

by Arithanas



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:12:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5481185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy came to the Walrus in extraordinary circumstances. Mr. Gates tries to ease the transition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Arrival

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skitz_phenom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skitz_phenom/gifts).



The creaking of wood alerted Billy. those were the steps of a man, not too heavy and not too light, and the sound betrayed those who approached. There were rushed steps over his head and the constant dripping on the tables was not the condensation on marine waters. After a couple of years in this ship, senses got accustomed to guessing the way danger could loom over one’s unsuspecting head.

The ship was boarded and none was the wiser, For that reason, danger was not  evident. Billy choose a dark corner and prepared to sell his life at a dear price, even if his only weapons were his weary fists.

The pirates were a small group. Those people were far too cautious, not the habitual ragtag bunch of desperate water-rats, willing to fight or die fighting, Because there was nothing else to live for if the assault were fruitless. These men were systematic, precise, and silent. Billy felt one huge drop of sweat rolling down his neck.

The muffled groans as the men who slept between the cannons were slaughtered like meek lambs made a good accompaniment to Billy’s frantic heartbeats.

The hour of fighting was getting near.

Billy heard how the door of the magazine was pried open and one slender figure all dressed in black took a step inside. This man was thorough; other pirates made the mistake of just peeking inside and trust there were no attackers hiding among the balls and the powder. His cautious approach involved the tip of his knife, poking between the balls and the kegs.  His face was covered with a black rag, the end tucked in his turban.

Thoroughly, methodically, the man tore apart the magazine as if he was sure he would find something. Billy realized he did not have much time to spare if he wanted to keep his hide.

The man turned to check the corner and Billy lurched forward. Billy knew the opportunity was slim,, but Mama Bones didn’t raise a boy who wouldn’t go down fighting.

The first punch was Billy’s, but that was all he could connect. The man in the turban was a seasoned fighter. He blocked the second punch and slammed Billy’s head to a keg without a pause. Billy barely registered the sharp pain in his brow.

The ruckus they were raising was attracting other pirates. People were rushing to the magazine. Billy escaped the second attempt the man made at smashing his head against the hardened wood, turned around and smashed his head against the man’s face. Billy has little to lose , but it was his and refused to let it go. The man’s knee was quick and  it struck Billy’s legs.

Pain exploded at the contact. Billy was fully aware of the hurt this time.

A black man made an attempt into the magazine with a burning torch before turning around and putting it away from the powder. The man in the turban took Billy by the shoulders, turned him around and bent him over one of the kegs. For a second, Billy dreaded a fate worse than death, but then he felt the cold kiss of a pistol muzzle on his nape.

“James!”

The name was said in a deafening tone and the muzzle wavered over Billy’s nape and Billy noticed his chances were on the rise.

“I didn’t shoot him, Gates,” the man called James declared and the pistol was removed.

“Good, another man could be very useful…”

There was a grunt of agreement. James took a step back and then pistol-whipped Billy into oblivion.

* * * * *

Billy’s ears were ringing, That was the first sensation that let him know he was alive. The rest of the aches and pains came uninvited, but they were as true as a piece of the Bible. Each time  his bruised ribs moved, they reminded him that those aches were the price of  his life. Billy was not pleased to pay such toll.

He was on the deck, propped against a roll of ropes. Someone had been attentive enough to put a bowl of gruel and some bananas next to him and Billy was not about to repay his kindness with disdain. His fingers began to peel the fruit, because he was sure bananas couldn’t be tampered with. The first bite tasted delicious.

The heavy steps of a hefty man sounded on the floor. Billy raised his eyes and recognized the one named Gates by the sound of his boots on the weary planks.

“You look like one in need of a good meal,” Gates propped up his weight against the rail, slide to sit on the dec, and took out a small hip flask from his waist. “A drop of rum to wash it down with?”

Billy took the flask and turned it around in his fingers, feeling the engraving. This was the way his misfortune began and he was not really in the mood to take a long sip again.

“You are already aboard my ship, boy,” Gates reminded him. “I can’t snatch you again.”

“And the one you called James?”

“He has bigger fish to fry to care for you, boy, at the moment” Gates signalled over the railing and Billy’s curiosity got the better of him.

Billy followed the cue and turned around, on his knees, to take a  look in the direction Mr. Gates had pointed. The captured ship followed them and the dark figure of James was on the deck.  Bathed in moonlight, the conquered vessel resembled a ghostly apparition, and the man at the helm the lost soul of a captain who went down with his ship.

“For now, Mr. Flint is our captain,” Gates explained and took another sip of his hip flask, “and he’s a tolerably good one.”

Billy sat  on the deck again, cursing his bad luck. Another ship and more forced labour, as if he had not had his share and more of it. With a shaky hand, Billy rubbed the crown of his head. A lump the size a dove egg was adorned the place where the metal had touched his cranium.

“Here on the Walrus, you are family.”

The words seemed sincere, but Billy suspected Gates was sent to repeat this very speech more than once. In fact, Billy was ready to bet Mr. Gates had addressed  it twice or thrice every time they got new cannon fodder. Billy wanted to believe in his offer, just for a change; he was tired of being suspicious everyone. The rest of the crews he had once belonged to were less friendly and only Billy’s sheer size kept him safe from the abuses he would have endured otherwise.

The weight of Gates’s hand on his shoulder was unexpected and gave him a start, but the man just smiled and offered him the bowl of gruel.

“I mean each of my words, boy. Just do your part and you get your cut. We can’t ask for more until you find a way to get along with the crew.”

“My name is Billy.” The words were said quietly. Billy wanted to believe, and he had seen enough  of this world to know he had to offer at least the barest minimum to be accepted.

“And they call me Mr. Gates,” he said, rising from the deck to return to his labours, “but my mum called me Hal.”

That detail made Billy smile and he tried to cover his grin with the bowl. The gruel fell  on his tongue in thick lumps and the sour taste was less than pleasant, but Billy nodded with stoic politeness and Mr. Gates moved astern.

With a sigh, Billy put the bowl down. The Walrus was an improvement of in his situation, but the kitchen needed a better cook.


End file.
